The Daedylus Project
by Saemoht
Summary: Summer after 5th year, a dark threat lingers over the wizarding community...lots of mystery, action, adventure, intrigue...perhaps a first kiss or two...:-) HG, RH, NLLL, etc.
1. Prologue

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Harry Potter franchise; I have no connections to J.K. Rowling or her publishers/licensees. No money is being made from this fanfic, and no copyright infringement is intended. Thanks for the awesome creativity, Ms. Rowling! _**

Arthur Weasley arose earlier than most adult wizards. It wasn't that he was especially fond of the pre-dawn chill and the chorus of raucous birds, so much that his office--The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts--was understaffed as it was, and there was always too much work to be done. 

_Too much work, never enough galleons. Ah, well...such is life. I'd rather be a poor Weasley than a rich Malfoy any day!_

He grabbed a crumpet and a small cup of tea on his way out the door. He always preferred to disapparate out by the barn...like those telly-visions the muggles stared at so obsessively, the "reception" was much better out of doors and there was less of a chance of getting splinched, or something nasty like that. 

As he stood by the old barn door, sipping the last of his over-strained tea (Molly always re-used the bags to save money), he saw a peculiar site. A low-lying grey cloud was approaching fast from the East...no, it wasn't a cloud...it was...owls. 

Tawny owls, the swift sort reserved for official Ministry business and Fudge's private orders from Madame Rosmerta's in Hogsmeade.

_And I doubt Fudge would place such a large order of mulled mead at this early hour. Must be ruddy important!_

One of the owls veered off from the group, zooming down to the very place where Arthur stood, a sealed envelope tied to its leg with silvery twine. Arthur quickly removed the letter; within seconds, the bird was in the air was more, headed toward London. 

_I wonder..._

He quickly undid the seal, and opened up the envelope. Inside was a single piece of parchment with green ink print in a neat stroke. 

**Dear Ministry Official:  
You are hereby informed that a shocking tragedy has befallen our community this morning. At approximately three o'clock a.m., our Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was slain by an unknown assassin. Mixed reports seem to agree that he was in his home at the time of his murder, though that information has yet to be confirmed by a verifiable source. In the meantime, we ask that you please report to your office as soon as possible. Be advised that rumors will spread rapidly once the sun rises; please treat all information as highly confidential and classified until otherwise informed by a sr. official.**

Arthur breathed heavily, trying to control the sudden rush of his heartbeat. _Fudge, dead? I never liked the bloke, but--but I can't believe it!_

He turned the paper over, and noticed another message--this one scrawled hurriedly in black. It took him a long moment to make it out... 

**Much darker than it would seem. Diagon at eleven; remember the Daedylus...**

Arthur crumpled the paper up, stuffed it in his pocket, and quickly chanted the words that would transport him to his office in the increasingly frantic Ministry of Magic. 

And miles away, a sixteen-year-old wizard-in-training sat in his window seat, watching the moonbeams dance around in the dark sky, and wondering why he couldn't sleep that night. 


	2. Chapter One: Storming & Swimming

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Harry Potter franchise; I have no connections to J.K. Rowling or her publishers/licensees. No money is being made from this fanfic, and no copyright infringement is intended. Thanks for the awesome creativity, Ms. Rowling! _**

A/N: Hope you enjoy this first full chapter of what promises to be an exciting, engaging, suspenseful, romantic fic! (I hope…:::gulp::: J ) Look for new chapters soon; please do review! It makes me so very happy…Wotcher!

It was the first day of August. Not that that meant particularly much to Harry...after all, his whole summer was little more than a countdown to September the First, when he would embark on the Hogwarts Express and jump-start his life once more.

At the moment, however, things weren't so bad. His sixteenth birthday had come and gone--with, of course, little notice from the Dursleys (though Aunt Petunia had actually made him breakfast, a gesture of kindness doubtless inspired by her last brush with the magical community, the summer before)--and he'd spent many lazy days relaxing, writing to his friends at the Burrow (Hermione was staying for the summer) and occasionally reviewing his notes for the inevitable potions quiz that he'd face on his first day back.

_Snape's the only ruddy prof that quizzes us when we've hardly settled in. Bloody idiot._

Harry gazed up at the azure sky overhead. His dreams had been surprisingly relaxed that summer. After his nightmarish fifth year, he hadn't known quite what to expect--but it wasn't this. _It's total serenity. It's like--it's like Voldemort's vanished. I expected things to be much more shaken up by now._

_Then again, maybe they are. It's not like I'm exactly in the thick of things here. In a way, that's kind of good. It was dumb of me to feel so neglected last summer; Dumbledore was only trying to protect me._

_I hate protection. But...but in a way, it was a good thing. I needed to hold out as long as I could. Now that I know the truth--the prophesy--it changes my whole outlook..._

_One of us will die..._

He wandered into the garden. The Dursleys were gone for the day--shopping, no doubt, probably someplace expensive--which didn't bother Harry in the slightest. He sat down on a low-lying deck chair, and watched ripples form in the large in-ground pool the Dursleys had had installed only the week before. ("Little Duddy-doo needs his exercise! The doctors say swimming is one of the best ways to get trim!" Dudley hadn't touched the water thus far; Harry secretly guessed he was afraid of it.) He pulled his old canvas shoes and socks off, and dipped his bare feet in the cool, filtered water. He wriggled his toes--it felt just about perfect.

He glanced around. Aunt Petunia was always finicky about these sorts of things--apparently afraid that he might somehow pollute her precious son.

Satisfied, he pulled his t-shirt off, and dove into the cool water.

_Sometimes...sometimes it's nice to be normal. Or as close as I'll ever be._

Ginny Weasley crunched a firm apple, savoring its luscious flavor and crisp texture. _This is the life..._

_Sorta._

She was swinging on an old rubber tire--_I think that's what dad called it, it's for those vee-ickles the Muggles drive around in_--enjoying the warm summer sunshine.

There were definitely advantages to being the youngest--and only--girl in a large family. She was rarely asked to do much of anything. True, her brothers and parents could be a touch over-protective.

_A touch..._she snorted.

It had been an...interesting reception when they'd learned she had a boyfriend. She'd kept Michael more or less secret--after all, her mum and dad hardly knew of her comings and goings and Hogwarts--but Dean was an entirely different story. He'd owled her daily for weeks; her mother finally confronted her when the poor tawny creature had almost collapsed under the wait of three dozen chocolate frogs, neatly packaged with a sprig of wild roses.

There'd been a row, of course, and angry tears shed on both sides--primarily a put-on for Ginny, as she found this was often an effective way to get what she wanted. And eventually (of course), her parents had nominally condoned what Mrs. Weasley huffed was "three steps short of becoming a ruddy scarlet woman!" (though they had yet to so much as kiss) but the damage had been done.

_I don't trust them._

_And...and I don't love Dean._

_Blast it._

She'd tried. She honestly had, but she had to admit--Dean was nothing more than a gesture of hopelessness. She was sick to death of Michael, and Harry--he seemed infatuated with Cho like there was no tomorrow.

_Harry. I've always had a bit of a crush on him._

_No, no...it's deeper than that._

_I've always loved him._

_But it's not like he gives two licks what I think. I shall forever be Ron's little sister. I can cope with that..._

_...who am I fooling?_

She sighed. She was developing the rather unfortunate habit of talking to herself. She already looked forward to returning to Hogwarts, were--if she wasn't the popularity queen--she certainly had caring, compassionate friends.

_I wonder, though, what Harry is doing these days, what with those horrid muggles getting on his case so often..._

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out into the garden, and she felt a chill run down her spine. That was mum's "someone's dead" voice.

"Come inside, quickly! Something frightfully terrible has happened..."

Remus Lupin sat in his small hovel, sipping a steaming cup of Earl Pepper (his favorite tea--the leaves were roasted by dragons in the north). He put his worn copy of the _Daily Prophet _on the rugged block of wood that served as dining table, coffee table and front room centerpiece, and grunted.

_Serves the old bloke right, I suppose. But really--it's a tragic mistake that should have been avoided._

_I wonder why security lapsed so terribly?_

_And to think that the Daedylus Project is resurfacing _now...

_Not the best of timing._

He cursed. He'd vaguely remembered reading about the Project somewhere, so he'd apparated to Hogwarts to do bit of research at the school library shortly after receiving the debriefing from Dumbledore.

He'd come up with some very interesting information...though much of it was myth and speculation, much was also based on factual, first-hand accounts of the devastating nature of the dark magic.

The brief meeting with the other members of the Order at Dumbledore's office that morning had been less than inspiring. As with so many issues of the day, the vast majority either disbelieved the reports, or attributed them to some other cause.

_It's so frustrating! They won't believe Voldemort has returned--and then he appears, and murders a key member of the wizarding community, and they relent._

_They insist that Harry is insane--'til his name is cleared, and he's lauded once more as the Boy Who Lived._

_They won't accept the looming danger encapsulated by Daedylus...they won't receive our warning until it is too late._

_People will die needlessly because the public is too scared of change and risk._

_I don't like it either, but we can't wish Tom back to non-existence._

_We have to fight!_

_Or die trying._

_This has been truly joyous._

Sixteen-year-old Hermione Granger stormed up the hill behind the Burrow. She gazed out over the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole, trying to push aside the seething anger and burning adoration that basically summed up her view of Ron Weasley at the moment.

_I've been at his house for, what, two days? And we're already fighting! Honestly!_

She'd awoken that morning to a pleasant surprise. Ron had knocked on her door at eight; she'd been asleep, but he looked so cute in the morning--messy hair, sleepy eyes, rumpled tee and bare feet--that she couldn't really resist granting him an early audience.

"So Hermione," he'd begun, his fingers and toes curling awkwardly and a slight shade of red slowly creeping along his lower neck.

"So," she tried to help him, semi-consciously checking to make sure that her night-robe was chaste. It was.

"So, erm...d'yawannahaveapicnicla'erwedonthavetoitspro'lydumb..." he turned to leave, and she couldn't help but grin.

She bit her lip. "Um, no Ron, that would be, uh, lovely. At noon?"

"How's one?" _What does it ruddy matter? Ah, but there I go, already on the defensive...Oh well..._

"Wonderful. One it is."

It had started off well enough. Ron, true to his word, had packed a tasty lunch--well, actually it had been Molly who had packed the lunch, but Ron did pick a couple of apples from the orchard--and the two had walked down to the riverside together.

They chatted about this and that...nothing deep, but then, pleasant conversation was a distinct change from their normal discourse.

_Funny how "nothing" always becomes "Quidditch" with these ruddy boys!_

She'd listened politely for what seemed to her to be a very, very long while. And then, half-jokingly, very casually...

"So do you think about anything else, Ron?"

_Big mistake_.

He'd gone off about how all she ever cares about "are books, books, and more books" and argued (rather scathingly) that if she'd just open her eyes and broaden her horizons, she'd be a much nicer person.

She'd felt affronted, and naturally responded in an equally acid tone.

A full-fledged argument ensued within moments, which ultimately resulted in the picnic basket floating upside down in the lake, Ron storming off to the house, swearing viciously, and Hermione--once again--in tears.

And so she wandered out to the hillside, and gazed at the sky above and the village below...

And as she reflected on their "picnic," one last tear slid down her cheek.

_Why is everything so ruddy complicated with him?! We're just friends, just...friends..._

"Check."

Fred and George Weasley sat by the hearth in the small, cozy back room that functioned as den, study, rec room, receiving and family room. They were playing Wizard's Chess for the seventeenth time that summer--it grew old after a while, but business was so slow during these months! They'd made more than enough galleons to survive the summer; not that their expenses were particularly high, given that Molly fed them like a couple of adolescents just reaching the age of puberty. Of course, they had their image to keep up--dragon-hide was so very expensive, due to the risk and...legal considerations in obtaining it.

"Ah, my dear brother. Your move was premature. You've--Bishop to E-3--lost your knight!"

George swore. "Oh, my poor, youthful ears are fast losing their virginity!" George swore more loudly. "Something eating at you, brother mine?"

"Indeed, Fred my heart, indeed."

"And that would be?"

"Ah--Queen to C-2--partly that I was seeking a safe way to eradicate your castle."

Fred glared. "But there is more...I feel that we're not doing enough to help the magical community, do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I feel it also. We are two young, able-bodied wizards, skilled in a..."

"...wide variety of trades..."

"...precisely, and we would be prudent to use our rare talents to aid our family and friends."

"But how?"

"My dear George, that is the question...that is the question..."

Molly appeared in the doorway, looking flustered.

"Boys--" "Mum, please. We're men. Men! _MEN_!" She reddened.

"Alright, _men_...something terrible has happened. Quick, come in the dining room, I'll let you read my copy of the Prophet."

_Checkmate._

_Life would be so much ruddy easier without girls. _Ron Weasley punched his pillow, lending emphasis to the dark thought. It was bad enough that Hermione had fallen to pieces--again--when all he was trying for was a fun day. Worst part was that he'd been thinking about this picnic for over a week now, and he was well beyond slightly irked that she would mess up his grand vision.

_I had it all figured out. A delightful afternoon by the river, playing games and chatting...then, as evening approached, sitting together by the old apple tree and watching the sky turn pink and orange with the setting of the sun..._

_What am I thinking?!_

Ron had found himself increasingly caught between reviling and ogling over Hermione during the past months. _'Specially since she's here...she's so bloody cute, but...but...but she's Hermione!_

Hadn't he tried to be friendly? Hadn't he gone out of his way to make her happy? Would she _ever _accept what he did for her at face value? What about all the times he had vouched for her, when no one else seemed to care? When Harry--_bloody famous Harry_--did something nice for Hermione, or anyone else for that matter, he received his due thanks. He was the Knight in Shining Armor to the entire blasted wizarding community, the most eligible wizard whatchamadingle in The Quibbler's Teen Witch edition...what about Ron? _Haven't I been by his side all along? He'd be ruddy dead if it weren't for me!!_

_And Hermione could care less. It's always, "Oh Harry! How BRAVE and KIND and GOOD of you" and "Ron, tie your shoelaces." _

A voice interrupted his sullenness. "Ron! Quick! Downstairs, NOW!"

_Bloody hell._

Arthur arrived at his desk, flustered and worried. _I wonder how much information they'll provide to lower-ranking members such as myself? I don't suppose it really matters...I'll learn everything else at the Order's gathering tonight._

_The Daedylus Project. Who would have thought?_

Memos were flying about in a much more harried state than normal. This wasn't a particularly great surprise; after all, something as significant as the murder of the Minister of Magic induced a bit of extra paperwork at the center of the British wizarding community.

_Of course, there are some who will be glad to see him out of the way._

_Actually, quite a few people._

_Actually, I wonder if anyone particularly regrets losing him? I know I don't...but Great Scott, there I go again...I mustn't be so hard on the old chap. Of course, he was a bit of an obstinate idiot...he did try to have Harry expelled on more than one occasion, and he rather disliked Dumbledore...and the trial...actually, there was very little about him that is of redeemable quality. _

_Even so, it would have been so much more convenient if he had just died a natural death. Murder--it complicates things so, it makes everyone's job more difficult...and the Daedylus Project, well, that adds a whole 'nother dimension to the situation..._

Arthur arrived in the Ministry press room at precisely seven o'clock a.m. Members of the major wizarding newspapers were already setting up their magical amplifiers, Wizarding Wireless Receivers and--in some cases--Quick Quotes Quills.

Most of the staff had arrived as well. Some he recognized; many were unfamiliar faces, but that wasn't a great surprise; as a junior staff member, he rarely associated with those from other departments.

At seven-oh-five, Amos Diggory walked out from the sealed conference room immediately adjacent to the briefing room.

"Good morning, colleagues. As most of you are doubtless aware--if you aren't, you should begin searching for a new situation--Minister Fudge was assassinated early this morning. Details are still sketchy at this point, but we have reason to believe that the murder occurred in his own house, as he was sleeping in his bed chamber--"

One of the reporters coughed loudly and raised his pudgy hand.

"Yes, you in the blue."

"Uh, sir, Mr. Diggory--have we ruled out a sui--"

"Yes, Blue, we have absolutely ruled out a suicide. As I was saying--"

The reporter coughed again.

"_Yes_, Blue?"

"Uh, my name's Stew, sir. Ivan Stew."

"Yes, yes, whatever. You have a question?"

"I'm just wondering about some details--"

"As I said, details are sketchy, and specific information about the Minister's demise is strictly confidential at this point, known to only a very few important persons here at the Ministry.

A low-ranking secretary raised her trembling hand. Diggory nodded, tiredly.

"S-sir, I was t-told that all employees h-here are important..."

"Yes, _yes_...what I meant was--_YES_, BLUE?"

"Stew, sir. Iv--"

"Shut up and ask your question; I need a spot of tea!"

"Uh, I was just wondering--was it a morbid death? Graphic, bloody, violent? Share the gruesome details!" His fat eyes blinked excitedly, and he smacked his large lips several times, in apparent anticipation.

"Oh, look!" Diggory pointed at his watch. "That's all the time we have this morning. Go about your business, folks. I'll debrief you again as information is released."

_Better make it brandy._

To any casual observer, it was an ordinary house. Unlike the Riddle Mansion, it was well-kept and fairly normal--if a touch large. A series of Muggle owners had lived in it over the past several centuries; very few individuals, wizard or non-magical, knew of its origins.

But there were some who remembered.

And the quiet, seemingly peaceful Little Whinging house had been consequently transformed into the center of command for the darkest wizard of the age.

Lord Voldemort had set up camp under the very nose of Albus Dumbledore, and seemed thus far to be getting away with it.

_It is so satisfying, so...pleasant...to deceive your foe by chancing precisely what he expects you'd never risk. Why would I return when I'm yet weak, not yet fully recovered from our duel? Dumbledore is so busy with the foolish Potter boy, he passes me by completely. But he will regret this deficiency when I make my move--by then, it will be too utterly late."_

A knock sounded at the door to his meditation chamber. "Yes," the Dark Lord barked with annoyance. _Pity the black soul who interrupts my sanctity..._

"My Master..."

"My faithful Crabbe. You bring word?"

"Yes, my lord. The attack...it was successful. Cornelia followed through on her pledge; she extracted all of the necessary information from the target. He was executed at precisely two-fifteen this morning. If I may, my Lord, the wizarding community has responded...just as we had anticipated."

"Excellent, excellent" his cold voice droned quietly. "Everything is proceeding as it must. Caught up in the demise of their ex-minister, they will utterly neglect my greater plan. I have another assignment for you."

"Anything, my Lord!"

"Yes...there is a member of the so-called Order of the Phoenix...goes by the nickname, Tonks. She will be in Diagon Alley late this evening. An opportune time for an...accident to occur."

"I will see to it!"

"Be sure that you do. She has...certain knowledge that could impede my plans. But Crabbe--before you depart, we have a small problem to attend to." A cruel smile spread slowly on Voldemort's face.

"S-sir?"

"You see, Crabbe, you entered my sanctuary without invitation. You disturbed my rest, and this angers me."

"B-but, m-my Lord..."

"So I think I shall have to teach you what it means to irritate Lord Voldemort."

"N-no my Lord, please, _nooo_..."

"Crucio!"

_Screams flooded out from the chamber, evaporating in the dark night._

**_A/N: Next time…a touch of H/G and a deadly plot…_**


	3. Chapter Two: Scarlet Harry

All characters, locations, general themes, etc., are the property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers. I own NONE of it! No money is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Thanks for the awesome story, JK! (  
  
"Cornelius Fudge, dead? Are you serious, mum?"  
"Of course I am, Ron, don't be foolish."  
"I just mean.woah. I mean, I never liked the old bloke-"  
"Ron!"  
"But mum? Who will run the Ministry now that Fudge is gone?" Ginny felt a bit nauseous; she'd never particularly liked Fudge either-he was so ruddy plump and imposing-but a high-level assassination wasn't quite to her liking either.  
"The Wizengamot will vote in a temporary Minister, who will serve until the next general elections. I only hope they choose someone sensible. If Amos Diggory gets the job-bless him, but I think I'd move to America."  
Fred piped up. "But-but do they have any idea who did this? I mean, could it have been You-Know-Who?"  
Mrs. Weasley frowned. "We don't know, darling, we just don't know.your father will hopefully find out more at the meeting in London this morning, but that will of course be mostly confidential."  
George rolled his eyes.  
And it suddenly clicked with Ginny. "Mum, what about Harry? I mean, is he really safe at his uncle and aunt's house, with the Death Eaters obviously not being very secretive anymore.I mean, what's to stop them from going after him as well?"  
Mrs. Weasley looked worried. "I owled Professor Dumbledore this morning with that very question, he should be getting back to me any moment now.but in the past he's always insisted that Harry is somehow safest on Privet Drive. Goodness knows I wish he was here, away from those horrible muggles."  
Her muttering was interrupted by the arrival of a grey Hogwarts owl. A scroll was carefully tied to its right foot; Fred grabbed the paper, perhaps a bit too roughly; in any case, the owl screeched angrily and pecked at his hand, causing Fred to curse and Mrs. Weasley to groan indignantly.  
She waited 'til the raucous had essentially subsided to read the letter.  
  
To the Weasley Family (and especially young Ginny):  
Incantations!  
I appreciate the concern you expressed in your recent letter regarding young Mr. Potter's well-being. Although I hesitate to make a change before it is proven necessary, I daresay you are correct; after the incident with the Dementor last summer, we can only be too careful. Lord Voldemort is most obviously planning something; I do believe Arthur will fill you in on that in the very near future, Molly. Yes, I think it is the right time indeed to remove Harry permanently from Privet Drive.  
I recommend that you move quickly, Molly. Lord Voldemort can be rather expedient when he sets his mind to accomplishing something.  
Yours in great haste and starving for a crumpet,  
A. Dumbledore (Headmaster, Hogwarts School; Order of Merlin, 1st  
Class; etc. etc.)  
  
Molly waited for a brief moment, before the buzz began in earnest.  
"He can come here!"  
"Forever!"  
"Well not forever, technically-"  
"Yes, but he's going to leave the ruddy muggles!"  
"HE'S GOING TO LEAVE THE RUDDY MUGGLES!"  
"Curse the muggles."  
"Curse all muggles!"  
"Fred!"  
"Sorry, mum."  
"But we have so much to do to get ready for Harry."  
"Oh, come off it, mum! Harry's family. You don't need to do anything."  
"Nonsense! There's cooking, cleaning."  
"Well, while you tidy up the house, George and I will go fetch Harry!"  
"Very well, Fred, very well."  
"I want to come too." Everyone stopped talking at once; a light, rose color tinged Ginny's face. "If.if that's ok, of course."  
"Darling, I'd really rather." Mrs. Weasley stopped, as she saw the look of pleading on Ginny's face. So like myself when I was younger. "Oh, very well. Fred, George.take care of your sister!"  
"Honestly, mum, I'm not a baby." Ginny sniffed, and scampered out of the room to find something half-decent to wear.  
  
.  
  
Harry lay on the soft grass under the shade of a tall oak tree. The sun was already high in the sky; he'd reclined by the new pool for a while, but his underexposed skin had very low solar tolerance, and he soon noticed his chest and feet turning a rather uncomfortable shade of pink. Ah well. Could be worse. I could be out shopping with Dudley. Buy me this, mummy. Can I have that, mummy? You'd think he'd be thoroughly embarrassed by now.  
An aeroplane streaked across the cerulean August sky, interrupting the birdcalls with its distant rumble. Reminds me of Quidditch. I ruddy miss Quidditch! It's crazy; it's only been two bloody months, and I'm already dying to be back in wizarding community. Of course, it's not like that's always the ideal.  
Harry's thoughts drifted aimlessly to the events of those last, fateful weeks of fifth year.to the stupid Occlumency lessons, to the insurrection against Dolores Umbridge, to Luna and Neville and.  
.and Sirius.  
A dull ache struck up its melancholy dirge somewhere in the recesses of his spirit. I still can't believe he's gone. And it's my fault. It's.my.fault.  
Harry had sworn to himself to forget it. He'd vowed not to allow resentment to creep back into his life. Fifth year had been miserable; he'd spent half of it moping about Cedric, and the other half complaining about not receiving information from the adults. Well, it was clear to him, now, why they'd held off. He wasn't ready! He wasn't ready to know that somehow, he was destined to face off with Voldemort-and that only one of them would walk away from that final battle.  
And I wonder who that will be.  
How many times could a kid dodge the darkest wizard of the millennium, anyway? He was up to.he did a brief count.four direct confrontations, if you counted the Chamber of Secrets. Sooner or later, my luck's gonna give out. There's no way.there's just not ruddy way.  
But a part of him knew that he would push the odds aside, that he would do what he could to avenge Sirius, Cedric, his parents.and save his friends, or die trying.  
I dunno what I would do without my friends. They've been so supportive of me, it's really quite amazing.I've never done anything to deserve such dedication. Nothing.  
Ron has stood by me since, since the Hogwarts Express. And Hermione, she's like the sister I never had. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley might as well be my step-parents, and Ginny-  
His thoughts halted rather uncomfortably.  
Well, what about Ginny, then? She's the little sister of my best friend, she's.drop dead gorgeous, and she, um, plays Quidditch and understands me in ways no one else possibly could.  
Harry shook himself mentally.  
No! There's no ruddy way I could fall in love with Ginny Weasley. It's out of the question. The dynamics would be way too different, if we dated-  
Just thinking of dating and Ginny in the same paragraph accomplished two things. One was a slowly dawning realization that bore down on Harry like an eighteen-wheeler. The other was a cold sweat on his forehead, as he realized that he actually could like her, if was willing to let himself.  
He shook his head, a daze creeping into his mind. Well, I suppose that is going to make things a bit awkward, whenever I see them.see her.again.but she's dating Dean Thomas anyway, so it doesn't ruddy matter.  
"I always did like the color red, though," he said aloud.  
"Funny, that," a girly voice giggled from somewhere behind him. "I find ebony black to be just my style."  
Harry jumped awkwardly to his feet, tripped, and went sprawling headfirst into the pool.  
He surfaced to find himself several feet away from a laughing, sundress-clad, much tanned Ginny. He found her a bit difficult to take in; somehow, over the course of two short months, she'd filled out considerably, put on several inches in height, and developed all of the right curves that would make any boy her age stare somewhat goggle-eyed.  
"Hi Harry."  
She knows my name.  
Of course she knows your name, you buffoon. She's ruddy Ginny.  
"Um-hey, Ginny! Uh, what are you, um, doing here?"  
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I dunno, just taking a stroll around the park and thought I'd drop in for some genuine Muggle hospitality. Nice swimming pool."  
"Yeah, it's for Dudley, but he never uses it."  
"I doubt he could stay above the surface, he's a ruddy elephant."  
"Yeah."  
There was an awkward pause, in which Harry realized rather conscientiously that he was still in his swimming trunks.he noticed, or at least thought he noticed, Ginny's eyes wandering casually below his neck. He got up out of the pool hurriedly, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around himself.  
"So, um, why are you really here?"  
"Dumbledore owled mum this morning. We're bringing you back to the Burrow. Dumbledore doesn't think it's safe for you here anymore."  
"Excellent! I'll go and get my stuff. Uh-you didn't come by yourself, did you?"  
Ginny giggled again, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat. "Heavens, no! Ron and Fred and George and all are in front. Wanted to keep an eye out, or something, make sure no evil Death Eaters come to prey." she smirked. "Though I seriously doubt they'd strike in mid-day in a Muggle neighborhood."  
Harry grew serious. "You never know, Ginny. These days.I dunno, nothing's predictable anymore."  
"Yeah, true. So go get your stuff."  
"Wanna come in?"  
"Sure."  
  
.  
  
"So how's business been?" Fred, George and Ron sat cross-legged on the front lawn, near the doorstep, watching the street carefully. Ron fingered his wand semi-consciously; it always felt good to have it by his side.  
"Excellent. For the most part. Things tend to be slower during the summer months, I'm not quite sure what that is.I suppose fewer wizards care to make the trek to Diagon, though I frankly don't understand because summer is supposed to be a time for relaxation and fun, and our shop serves both of those needs with superior style."  
"Our profits are steady, and growing," George piped in. "At the current rate, we project that we will open our first subsidiary store- likely in Hogsmeade, to serve as a bit o' competition for Zonko's, within six or eight months."  
"Wow. Run Zonko's out of business?"  
"I doubt it. Then again, poor old Zonko's rather lost his touch. His creations are too standard, too typical-we experiment, you see, we come up with ideas that have never been attempted before. Who but the Weasley Bros., esq., could dream up Canary Creams? Who but Messrs. Gred and Forge could possibly imagine Skiving Snackboxes?"  
"True, that."  
"That man is staring at us."  
All three went very quiet, and gazed with feigned looks of casualness at a rather scruffy man in a black overcoat, leaning against a nearby streetlight and watching Number Four Privet Drive rather keenly.  
Too keenly.  
"I didn't expect Death Eaters in broad daylight."  
"No, but then-Dumbledore did say You-Know-Who likes to move quick when he gets an idea in his ugly serpentine head."  
"Right-o. Well, there's just one. We could take 'im."  
Ron looked doubtful.  
"I think that's our last resort. Maybe he's just a scout. If we get Harry out quickly, it shouldn't be a problem."  
"But how?! The ruddy Portkey is several blocks down, and Privet's not on the Floo anymore, and.and.we aren't all licensed to apparate yet."  
Fred rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're actually waiting on your license?! George and I learned ages before we passed the test. Makes life so much easier when you're late for class."  
"Yes, but-but what if you get splinched?  
An uncomfortable glint flashed in George's eye. "Well, there was that one occasion."  
"A simple miscalculation. One in a thousand, won't ever happen again," Fred cut in quickly. "You'll be absolutely fine. I assume you are familiar with the charm?"  
"Of course," Ron growled irritably. I hate it when they treat me like some goody goody kid.  
"Excellent! On the count of three then.and just focus, little brother. Focus."  
  
.  
  
Harry led Ginny up the polished open stairwell to the upper flights where Dudley's old room was located. Been five years and I still think of it as Dudley's. Feel more at home at the Burrow than I ever will here.  
"Wow, Harry.your room, it's."  
It was immaculate.  
"Um.yeah, well, see, Aunt Petunia, she's really finicky about this sort of thing. I have to keep it spotless or it's 'back to the cupboard with you' and it's not like I'm going to put up with that."  
"They can't boss you around like that, Harry, you're sixteen years old."  
"Yeah I know, I'd not let them actually do anything to me anymore but still.it makes life around here so much more tolerable-marginally so, anyway-if I keep on Auntie's good side."  
Ginny smirked. "Well, a quick charm ought to do it."  
Harry started. "Huh?! What about the decree-"  
"-for the reasonable restriction of underage magic? Revoked! Dumbledore's doing. Well, I doubt the Ministry liked it, but they haven't much of a choice, have they, when Dumbledore sets his foot down?"  
"No, I guess not."  
Ginny flicked her wand casually, and Harry's belongings began sorting themselves out in mid-air.  
"Really, though.that's ruddy brilliant! We'll have so much more fun."  
"Oh yeah." Ginny smiled engagingly.  
She's got such a flair, a fire, an enigma.a something!  
The clock struck four.  
"Harry, may I ask you something?"  
"'Course!"  
"Um.how have you been, really? I mean.the things that happened last year."  
"Sirius?"  
"Yes."  
Harry sighed deeply. "I dunno Gin, sometimes it's hard to believe he's gone.but I learned my lesson last year. I spent so much time mourning Cedric Diggory.I needed to get on with my life, to enjoy what time I had, to seize the day.I've learned that we can't let the past affect our futures. Times are changing, Gin.Voldemort is growing stronger, and you know as well as I do what that means for the wizarding community and the world at large. I-I miss Sirius." Harry felt his voice break slightly, but he kept going-"but I know that, wherever he is, he's still kinda with me in spirit. Like-like the memories we did share, and stuff."  
Ginny's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You've really grown up a lot, Harry. I'm-I'm so proud of you."  
Harry found that both peculiar and touching.he also found himself sitting next to Ginny on his bed, and drawing a bit closer to her side.  
Ginny touched his hand. "You've been through so much, but you're still so strong.that's courage, Harry. You're a great Quidditch player, a brilliant student and a gifted wizard but-my gosh, you have courage. That's- that's so admirable."  
She smiled at him, her chocolate eyes piercing his emerald gaze. Her hand moved up his arm a bit.  
"Ginny, I-" they were moving closer, moving faster.  
  
Crack. "Damn it, George!" Ginny jumped aside, as George apparated onto Harry's bed. "Hullo, little sister, Harry.we have-" Crack. "Ron! What do you think you're doing?!" Ginny scowled, while Harry grinned from ear to ear. "Wicked awesome entrance, there, mate!" "Thanks, Harry, I-" Cr-splat! Fred's head appeared hovering in mid-air.  
The rest of Fred was not in sight.  
"Bloody hell," George swore viciously. "It would seem, brother mine, that we've had a slight accident."  
"Slight, but not irreparable."  
"Yes, but the Death Eater."  
"Huh?!" Harry started. "What's going on?"  
"Harry, ol' chap, we think we've discovered a visitor out by the lamp post. We don't recognize him; we doubt you will, either."  
Harry growled. "Great. So how do we get out of this?"  
"First things first," George said smoothly. "We have a splinching to desplinchify." He pulled out his wand, and began a complex serious of chants and charms. "What about the rest of us?!" Harry asked, surreptitiously. George wavered momentarily. "Uh-Ron, show Harry and Ginny how to Apparate."  
  
"I can jolly well do it on my own," Ginny snapped. "I'm a Weasley, remember? I've been doing this since.since I was much younger, anyway." Ron looked doubtful, but said nothing. Another crack sounded, this one louder than the first two, and the rest of Fred appeared underneath his head, more or less where it belonged. George surveyed him critically. "Well, it's not quite straight." Fred let out a strangled growl. ".but it will have to do until we can get to safer premises." The twins grabbed Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage. "Alright, Harry," Ron began, "it's quite simple really, disapparation and apparation and all that. You just have to.to really picture yourself at, well, wherever you're going, and swish your wand like this-" he demonstrated "-when you say the chant, go on now, it's not hard, really." A crash sounded downstairs. "And we're short on time!" George suggested with more than a hint of urgency. "Ok, uh, you and Fred, go 'head with Harry's trunk" Ron grabbed Ginny by the shoulder. "Ginny, get out of here, I'll stay and make sure Harry manages to apparate." The twins nodded and disappeared. Ginny scowled, but she pulled out her wand as well. She touched Harry's arm. "I'll see you at the Burrow!" she smiled, and then scrunched up her face in concentration and vanished. Another crash sounded, this one much nearer to Harry's upstairs room. "Right mate, ya ready?" "Yeah, I guess." "Good 'cuz you have to be. On the count of three then, concentrate, remember." A loud knock sounded on Harry's door. "One-" "Alohomora!" a man's voice sounded from behind the door. Harry recognized it, vageuly. "Two-" The door swung open. Three masked death eaters stumbled in. "Three!" Both Ron and Harry vanished, leaving the Death Eaters in their magical wake. "Damn anyway," the leader swore, "the Dark Lord is going to have a bloody hey-day." "Oi! Plum pudding!" Their fourth constituent called from the basement. They nodded to one another, and headed back downstairs.  
  
.  
  
"Welcome back the Burrow, Harry!" Fred smiled.  
"Mum's downstairs, waiting for you," George added. "But.you might want to see to yourself first." He snickered.  
"Huh?!"  
"I think he means, erm, get dressed?" Ginny smiled slightly.  
Harry froze, mortified. I was bloody swimming, and I didn't.  
Ron choked, while Harry turned scarlet.  
"Um.oh, yeah, I must've.forgotten.uh, right." he stumbled out of the hallway and into Ron's bedroom. 


	4. Chapter Three: Dedalus & Dumbledore

All characters, locations, general themes, etc., are the property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers. I own NONE of it! No money is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Thanks for the awesome story, JK! (  
  
They'd had a delicious brunch-Mrs. Weasley, as usual, had outdone herself, and Harry-as usual-felt a pang of guilt at her quiet, motherly compassion. I'm not even part of her family, not really.but she's so good to me. She's so much more of a mother than Aunt Petunia...  
Molly had said very little to any of them about the situation that had brought Harry so abruptly to the Burrow. She didn't know much herself, and she certainly wasn't about to expose her brood to more than they absolutely needed to hear.  
After lunch, Harry, Ron and Ginny had gone down to the river to relax, but Ron hadn't stayed for long. He'd seemed out of sorts, and he left, muttering something about Quidditch on the Wizard Wireless. (Which, Harry remembered, would not air until five o' clock, but, devoted friend that he was, he allowed Ron to lie uninhibited.) He hadn't said anything, but Harry guessed that his agitation had something to do with Hermione-who Harry hadn't seen yet, though he knew she was staying at the Burrow. I'm not going to worry about it, though. I'm sick of them fighting constantly and I'm going to ruddy well enjoy myself. For once. Without Dudley. With Ginny. Apparently.  
He was sitting next to her, cross-legged on the river's sandy bank. The gentle summer breeze had tousled her silky hair just slightly.her eyes were closed, as she leaned back against the ground, bare feet buried in the warm sand.  
She's so serene. But she's experienced things no kid should ever have to go through. And it's all my fault.  
No it's not, it's Voldemort's fault. You're just a pawn in his plan, and you've stood up to him.  
Harry sighed. If there's one thing worse than voices floating around in my head, it's competing voices.  
He turned his attention back to girl resting beside him. He was enchanted.her eyelashes were shaped perfectly, her cheeks had the faintest of dimples.her figure was.  
Harry grabbed a fistfull of his ever-long hair and pulled hard, eliciting a yelp of pain from himself. This is crazy. This is Ron's sister. I can't be having these sorts of thoughts about her. What about Cho? Cho was.  
Cute?  
Hmm.  
He couldn't help it, he decided. He was over Cho. If I'd ever really cared about her.everyone else around me had crushes and things, it was testosterone or something.dunno, I didn't really love her though or anything.  
But Ginny.  
But I can't!  
But.  
But I do.  
  
***  
  
Hermione Granger sat on the edge of her bed, staring forlornly out the slightly cobwebby window. It was a beautiful afternoon, but she didn't feel like relaxing outside-in fact, she didn't feel like doing much of anything.  
Chocolate would be nice, though. But I don't think Ginny has any.and it would be so very rude go digging through her drawers and things.  
I just don't understand all these emotions right now, and it's really quite ridiculous, I've read all about adolescence but nothing prepared me for.  
For Voldemort. And living with fear, and having to be strong for Harry. Constant Vigilance. And.and death.and.  
.Ron.  
A timid-very timid-knock sounded on the door.  
Hmm. Let me guess who that is.  
Hermione sighed, then forced herself to put on her best nonchalant could care less face and slowly turned the knob.  
  
***  
  
The fountain in the garden of Number Two, Privet Drive bubbled gently, its soothing tones mingling with the buzzing of harmless insects and the distant roar of motors from the road some blocks down.  
An old lady, carrying a bag of the day's shopping, passed by the house. She paused to admire the lovely floral arrangement in the front. Perfect and pristine, just the way a Privet Drive lawn ought to be! The high bushes concealing the garden were of no matte to her.such landscaping was becoming quite trendy. Though it's not very friendly.things were so much better in the old days.  
She continued on her way, pausing momentarily when she heard a strange, muffled noise from the garden.  
"I hate cats," she sniffed, and walked on.  
Had she been a bit more observant, she might have noticed the pair of eyes peering at her through the shrubbery.  
"Well, Wormtail?"  
"N-n-n-no, m-my Lord, n-no one heard."  
"That is well indeed, my faithfully incompetent servant." Lord Voldemort turned his gaze to the pitiful Death Eater, lying on the sparse grass. "Great must be his pain and torment, indeed, if his screams pierce the Silencing Charms."  
"P-please, L-lor." the Death Eater wailed.  
"Oh no. No, you have disappointed Lord Voldemort, Crabbe. I must have funds to continue my assault, and your pitiful failure at the Goblin Bank indicates your lack of.maturity."  
"My Lord, I-"  
"Silence! Wormtail, are my Death Eaters in position at Diagon"  
"We are still waiting to hear from Lucius Malfoy, my Lord."  
"Very well." The Dark Lord flicked his wand casually back toward Crabbe; fear grew wild on the Death Eater's pallid face "Time for more entertainment, then. Crucio!"  
  
***  
  
Ron and Hermione sat on opposite sides of her bed, each looking anywhere but at one another.  
The same old routine, Hermione sighed to herself. We are getting a bit old for this.then again, I suppose it's my fault too.but.but he was so rude! I merely insinuated that he has an unhealthy obsession with Quidditch- which he does! And he went off on me. Again.  
She sniffled a little, in spite of herself. Ron seemed to snap to; at any rate, he started, and turned to fix his gaze on her.their eyes locked, and Hermione tried desperately-though unsuccessfully-to keep hers from tearing up.  
"'Mione, I'm.I'm sorry.I."  
She sighed. "I'm sorry too, Ron, but I just don't."  
"No really" His voice had an edge to it. "You're always right, honestly, and I just have to argue with you 'cuz.'cuz."  
"No, but you love Quidditch Ron, and there's nothing wrong wi-"  
She stopped talking suddenly as Ron took her hand. "'Mione, I like Quidditch, but." A long moment passed between them.  
"But--?"  
"Oh-bloody hell!"  
Ron leapt up from the bed, and started for the door, leaving Hermione more confused than ever.  
"Ron!"  
His hand froze midway to the doorknob.  
I give up. Nothing for it, but.yeah.  
Ignoring his nausea, Ron turned slowly around. Tears sparkled in Hermione's eyes now, and he felt his own stinging a bit. He crossed his fingers and his toes, stepped carefully up to he bedside, and collapsed- arms wide open-onto Hermione.  
Somehow, their lips connected in a fiery, pure, emotionally charged kiss. Their tears mingled, as Ron pulled Hermione closer and each tangled their hands in the other's hair. They smiled as they kissed, their grins broadening with each passing moment. Finally, they came up for air. "Bloody hell!" Ron whispered, almost reverently. "That was-wow, Ron. Wow, I-" "I'm so sorry, 'Mione. I promise I won't argue with you any-" "No Ron." It was Hermione's turn to be firm. "That's part of what I like about you, really. It's part of who you are, and I could never change that." You have changed me, 'Mione." "A little, perhaps. You've changed me too, Ron Weasley." "I-" "I love you, Hermione." "You too. I mean-I love you, Ronmmmmmmm." They fell back in together.  
  
***  
  
Albus Dumbledore paced back and forth in his study. Things were definitely not right. The murder of Cornelius Fudge, Dumbledore was certain, was just a cover for a much deeper plot Voldemort was clearly developing. The Daedylus Project. But it was never completed. The prototype has remained in the Diggle family for generations. I can only assume that Tom has somehow concocted the final component for the Project. Dumbledore shuddered involuntarily. The pain he could inflict.the trauma he could cast over the entire wizarding community is phenomenal. Tom could win this war with the Project.  
  
Of course, Dumbledore considered, the reverse is also true. If we can decipher and obtain that final ingredient, we could end this conflict entirely. It must be doable, or Tom would not be so eager to obtain the Project. Dumbledore sighed, and drank a long draught of his hot chocolate. Tonight, we will formulate our plan. This must be a high priority for the Order.second only, perhaps, to protecting Harry. Dumbledore crossed the room and headed to the library.  
  
***  
  
Dedalus Diggle scurried about, gathering parcels quickly. "Must leave, must leave quickly." he muttered to himself, as he packed his large duffle bag. "Always knew He'd come after it eventually, knew it wasn't safe, don't know why Dumbledore didn't have it placed somewhere else long, long ago. Dedalus grabbed an apple, and took a juicy bite as he casually flicked his wand, sending disorganized socks and salamander skins flying across the room into his bag. "Dear me, dear me.must leave, must find somewhere to go." He knew just what he would do. There was a London penthouse, in the family for years and years.no one knew about it, it was completely unplottable-or so they said. It would be the ideal place to lie low for a bit, at least until the danger had passed. Which will be soon, I hope. Hardly more than a Squib myself, certainly not prepared to fight off hordes of Death Eaters or V-v-He Who Shall Not Be Named!" Dedalus finished his pacing, and, with a last affectionate look at his small house, hurried out the door.,  
  
***  
  
The Hog's Head pub was virtually empty. Dark and dingy as ever, it was easy to miss the three figures huddled together in a far corner, sipping with great nonchalance at tall, frothy firewhiskeys. "So. You come from a far-off land, you say, " one of the cloaked figures whispered. "From over the mountains." A slightly shorter person answered. "And you believe you have information that can help us?" the third figure chimed in. "Yes, I saw your cryptic advertisement in the Questars section of the advertisements in The Quibbler. Not a very reliable read, that, but-" "Yes, but you understand the nature of this business. We must maintain utter secrecy, or risk danger far greater than any we are ready for. Even us," he winked at his companion. "Yes, well, as you know, the.the Project is a legacy of great-" "Yes, it is a legacy of great renown, passed down from Diggle to Diggle-an elegant, fatally powerful weapon that could-if it were abused-wreak havoc on the entire wizarding community. We know that part. Tell us where you come in." "Well. As you know, the Project was never completed. One key element was neglected; until it is obtained, the Project is utterly useless." "And-?" "I have found the missing element." All three figures were silent for a long moment. "Are you saying.you have the ingredient?" the firs speaker finally queried. "No, no," the informant said impatiently, "if I had it I would take it to a higher bidder. No, it must be obtained-and I believe that you may have what it takes to do just that. It's worth it, you know. I assure you, there is only one of this item, it is entirely unique." Fred and George Weasley exchanged glances. Then, George carefully removed a pouch from somewhere within his cloak and counted out a pile of shiny gold galleons. "Tell us everything."  
  
***  
  
The lights were on at the Burrow, blazing across the garden and filtering through the woods that guarded the quiet river, but the two teenagers didn't care. It was comfortable out, and besides-for the bespectacled sixteen-year-old, freedom from the Dursleys after two solid months of tortuous confinement was absolutely intoxicating. He treaded water floating on his back and gazing up at the tiny pinpricks of light that would morph slowly into stars over the minutes and hours to come, only to fade once more at the first light of dawn.  
"They're beautiful, aren't they? The stars.I come out here often, to watch them." Ginny swam over to where Harry floated, watching the night sky with interest. "Yeah. Beautiful." He gulped. The thing is, it's awkward 'cuz I don't know what I'm supposed to say to her.how do you talk to a girl, anyway? All I ever talk to is Hermione and she's.well, she's different.  
"Harry," Ginny asked quietly, "do you really like it here at the Burrow?"  
"Of course!" he was startled. "Why wouldn't I?! You are all like."  
He was going to say family, but realized that it might be a bit premature for him to insinuate something like that with his best friend's little sister. She's probably ticked at her mum for taking me in like she has. I know I would be.  
"Harry, listen. I know.we can't do much for you, we don't have much money, but we all love you. A lot. I mean it. So-so don't be afraid to consider yourself an Honorary Weasley, or something."  
He smiled. "Thanks, Gin." Guess I was wrong. Wouldn't be the first time, probably won't be the last.  
They stayed in the water for a few more minutes, until the chill of evening began setting in, in earnest. Then, with an inevitable mix of contentment and and disappointment, they got out, dried off and headed back to the Burrow. Harry debated for a moment, then casually took Ginny's hand.  
  
She continued to stare straight ahead, as they walked on.but a small smile played at her lips.  
  
***  
  
Nymphadora Tonks stepped out into the empty street. The dusky, darkening sky left marks of red and gold where the glowing sun had burned hot an hour before.the vendors, so busy during the long summer afternoon, had finally packed their carts of assorted cabbages and cat's claws and headed off to their modest homes.  
My night to guard. Again. Wotcher, I'm tired! And the meeting at eleven, but I ruddy well can't miss it! Hope Dumbledore's up on the hour, can't have the wrong hands getting access they shouldn't have.bloody hell, I can't believe He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named finally remembered the Daedylus, I had hoped he'd forget.  
Tonks shivered involuntarily in the lukewarm air.  
  
***  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat together in the Weasley's den, playing an intensive game of QuadWizard's Chess.  
As if the original isn't hard enough, Harry grimaced to himself. Not surprisingly, Ron was easily in the lead.also unsurprisingly, Ginny was holding her own quite well. He, Harry, was struggling to keep his queen, and Hermione had clearly given up hope and was moving her pieces aimlessly as she gazed relentlessly at anything but Ron. (It didn't take a hawk's eye to catch the furtive glances, however.)  
"So." Ginny piped up. "Whaddya think? I mean, about all this.this stuff?"  
"What I wonder is," Ron said thoughtfully as he annihilated Hermione's bishop, "why Dumbledore was keen to have Harry leave the Muggles. Not," he added quickly, at Harry's arching eyebrows, "not that we didn't want you to come, mate. It's just-well, he must've thought you weren't safe, right? Else he would have procrastinated like he always does."  
"Ron-" Hermione warned, but he cut her off.  
"Pay attention," he mock-snapped, as he knocked one of her castles aside. She turned a very light shade of crimson, and focused her attention completely on the chessboard. Ron caught Harry's eye, and smirked.  
"Yeah, well," Harry picked up the conversation, "we don't really know this about me, do we? I mean-Voldemort has tried to kill me enough times, he can't be thick enough to pull off another stunt like that last one, can he?"  
"Maybe," Hermione said softly, "he's not after you for you. Y'know.maybe you serve some other end. Like.like the Hidden Ingredient."  
"Huh?!" Ron stared at her.  
Hermione glanced at him with a look of asperity. "Had you read the summer materials-"  
"Hermione! There's a month left!"  
"You've had plenty long enough. How can you expect to perform well on the N.E.W.T.s if-"  
"HERMIONE! That's TWO RUDDY YEARS OFF"!  
She gave him a patronizing smile. "You just tell yourself that."  
"What's that supposed to mean?!"  
"The point," Hermione continued authoritatively, "is that if you had read Strange Experiments and Lackadaisical Spellcasting, you would know that many of the most infamous weapons of wizarding history were left incomplete, awaiting a final ingredient of some sort. Sometimes they kept the weapons incomplete intentionally, faring their misuse. Other times, it was simply an oversight. Legend has it that one weapon, a particularly powerful one," she smiled at the keen interest in the others' eyes, "the Daedylus Project, needs some ingredient or some such thing, something that could only be obtained under the right conditions.maybe you have something to do with that, 'cuz if the text is accurate, it's still a secret tool of the Ministry today, and, well, we've seen how unreliable they can be."  
"You're jumping to conclusions, 'Mione," Ron cut in. "We have no idea what Voldemort is after, or why he killed Cornelius Fudge, or-"  
"We'll see," she responded in a sing-song voice. "Oh, and Ron...checkmate."  
  
***  
  
The three masked figures watched as, one by one, prominent members of Dumbledore's Order made their way into Gambol and Japes.  
Some secret meeting place, Lucius Malfoy sneered. And-ah, there's the old fool himself.  
Albus Dumbledore walked calmly down the crooked road, a searching, secretive look on his face. He paused for a moment, glancing in the general direction of the concealed Death Eaters. Then, apparently satisfied, he too made his way into the joke shop.  
He didn't even see us. Just as we expected-the naïve fool is too convinced of his own power to recognize his frailty. Now they will meet together, planning their pitiful attempt at the Dark Lord's demise while we obtain the girl..  
As if on cue, Nymphadora Tonks stepped out into the open area of the street, gazing dreamily at the stars overhead.  
"Right," Lucius whispered to this Death Eater comrades. "Let's move in." 


End file.
